


only you know the way that i break

by softambrollins



Series: i know you. [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Breaking Up & Making Up, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Codependency, Dark Past, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Goodbyes, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insecurity, Internal Conflict, Kindred Spirits, M/M, References to Illness, Self-Destruction, Suicidal Thoughts, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: This has to end. It should've never happened in the first place. You can't tame a wild animal like him. You can't make a snake like Seth stop spitting its poison at everyone who dares to trust it. This was built on lies and now it's crumbling from the inside and it's going to consume every single one of them.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black
Series: i know you. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074026
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	only you know the way that i break

**Author's Note:**

> Spans from Seth's betrayal to Dean leaving.
> 
> You should definitely read the first part before this.

In the end, Seth's betrayal isn't as much of a surprise as it should be. Because Dean _knows_ him. There was always a part of him that was constantly looking for an excuse to cut and run. Sometimes Dean would look into his eyes and it was like he wasn't even there anymore. Like he was already a million miles away. Long gone.

Maybe Dean's the one who can't stay still for a minute without going fucking crazy, but maybe Seth's been running away from things even longer than he has.

Sometimes in the dead of night, he lets himself reach for those dark thoughts. Wondering if Seth hadn't done it first, if it would've been him instead. But it just feels _wrong_. The Shield became so much more than he ever expected, so much more than he ever thought he would have, and the thought of it being gone now is almost enough to tear him apart atom by atom.

He's been alone his entire life. And Seth knows that. Seth knows _everything_. Dean told him everything about his life, being abandoned over and over again, the crushing loneliness, the hopelessness, all the terrible things he did to survive, sometimes only being able to feel something by hurting someone else, destroying something good. And it was like cutting his veins open and just letting them flow freely but he knew Seth would be there to stop him from bleeding out. Seth was always alone too, but just inside his own head. He didn't trust this to last. This is the only thing Dean has ever trusted. And it was like handing him a knife. Seth took all his pain, all his demons, and turned it against him when he stabbed him in the back. And through the heart. It was like he was saying, _This is the only way you'll let me go for good._

Maybe Dean knows why Seth did it, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to make him regret it for the rest of his life.

*

They're backstage at a house show when Dean finds Seth all alone for the first time. He just grabs him by the front of his shirt and presses him up against a wall.

"Why the fuck did you do it?" he snarls. "I need to hear you _say_ it."

"You know me," is all Seth says, eyes dark and empty, like bottomless pits, staring right at him. He can't see any of the Seth he knows in him now, and it feels like losing something all over again.

"This isn't you," Dean says, and his hands shake where they're clutching at Seth, and it's most unmoored he's felt this whole time. He knows Seth can see it in his eyes, feel it in his unsteady breathing. There's no hope of getting Seth back. He's just being weak, sentimental, foolish.

Seth just shakes his head, almost regretfully. "No, Dean. This is exactly me. You always knew that. You thought I — _we_ could change. But we can't. This is who I am. This is who you are. So, go ahead. Show me who you are."

Dean slowly releases his hold on Seth, gaze dropping to the floor, taking heavy, shallow breaths. Then he shoves him back against the wall even harder than before, pressing his lips against Seth's, roughly, painfully, devouring his mouth with his own.

He still tastes like _his_ Seth and it's agonising and he hates it and he wishes he never fucking knew what this felt like in the first place but he can't stop either. They stay like that for a couple minutes, kissing breathlessly and desperately, Seth moaning into his mouth, his hands fisted tightly in Dean's hair, Dean tasting Seth's blood between his teeth. Somehow it makes sense that so many of their kisses tasted like blood.

Dean feels him press his hips up into Dean's body, seeking friction, already hard against his thigh, and he pulls away all at once. Seth's still looking at him, disappointed, hungry. At least he can still feel something.

He shoves him away from him.

"This is the last time," he tells him evenly. "We're done."

*

He's all alone again. He's back to square one. And it's even worse than before. It's somehow much worse to have it and lose it than to never believe it was possible in the first place. He gets into bar fights and has no one to call from the police station. He gets blackout drunk and there's no one there when he wakes up. Sometimes he's surprised he wakes up at all. Maybe the alternative would be better. He stumbles home through the dark all by himself.

*

He never lets Seth forget it, though. They come back together over and over, crashing and colliding, like magnets, like fucking _fate_. Seth's always right there in front of him, a constant reminder of everything he lost, and Dean's not going to let him get away with it so easily. Seth may have everything he ever wanted now, titles and money and success and glory, he's finally on top of the mountain, he has all the flashing lights and fame and attention he ever could have dreamed of, but Dean knows it'll never really be enough for him. Because it was fucking _real_ , he knew it was real, he knew what it was from the first moment they laid eyes on each other, from the first moment they locked up in the centre of that ring. Seth can lie to himself and everyone as much as he wants, but he can't lie to Dean. Because he _felt_ it. Because maybe Seth was always fucked-up and Dean was even more fucked-up and maybe this was always going to crash and burn eventually, but it was never _nothing_. It always meant something. Whatever it was. Even if he can't explain it. It'll _always_ mean something. Seth can't erase that or kill that, no matter how many times he tries to kill Dean. Or maybe he thinks Dean will just self-destruct all on his own. Do his own dirty work for him. But even if he gets rid of Dean, he knows that deep down, Seth can never truly destroy this thing they have between them. He knows this like an absolute truth. In his veins. In his bones. Maybe it's all he has left to hang on to, even when giving up all hope might hurt less.

*

Seth loses the title, almost loses his career. And he's gone, finally, but it's not a relief and it's not satisfying in any way. There's just more emptiness. He wonders if Seth might never come back. He wonders if he'd be able to survive that. It's been five years and Dean thinks he just might fucking die if Seth wasn't there for him to fuck or fight anymore.

Dean used to dream of killing Seth sometimes, hands wrapped tightly around his throat, squeezing and squeezing until the life left his eyes, every part of the Seth he knows and doesn't know fading away forever. He would wake up clutching desperately at his own chest, gasping for air, like he couldn't breathe himself, with tears flowing unrestrained from his eyes. He felt like he was coming apart, like he was being unmade from the inside out.

He knows he can never destroy Seth, or destroy what he feels for Seth, without killing some part of himself. Something intrinsic and essential and permanent. Something that's not worth living without. Something that makes him who he is, for better or worse.

He wonders, sometimes, if Seth still feels the same way.

*

He falls to his knees with the title in his hands next to Seth's unconscious body and he feels truly awake for the first time in years and not like he's walking underwater, weighed down and struggling to move forward with every single step. It feels like the day he first met Seth again. That was the last time he really felt like himself. He can almost picture the sunlight hitting the Chicago street, hear the sounds of traffic and people bustling all around him. It was bright but cold that day and it was like a whole different world back then. The streets were filthy around him but the air was cool and pristine on his skin. Spring was on its way. It felt like endless possibility. He was on his own, untethered, as free as a bird. Not happy but not miserable either. He was content with the balance.

Maybe they should've never met. Maybe Seth never came out of the building and saw him there. Maybe Dean tossed his cigarette butt into the gutter and got out of dodge before he ever showed up.

Maybe that should've been the end. Maybe he should've walked away. Maybe he should've never followed him to Florida. 

He used to think he'd be dead if he never went to FCW, never met Seth and Roman, never cleaned up his act to eventually climb the ranks in the company. But maybe it was never really the drugs, the alcohol, that fucked him up. Maybe it was just Seth. Maybe it was just a replacement fix after he left, something to make him feel good and something to wreck him in equal measure, but he doesn't need it anymore. Doesn't need anything. Maybe he can let it go now. Let it all go. Feel the sun on his face again. 

Maybe now he has a second chance. Maybe now he can breathe again.

*

But then a year later, Seth's standing right there in front of him and saying everything he's always wanted to hear.

And he just _breaks_. Like the first time. 

He hates himself for it. But God, Seth is the only thing he's ever wanted. More than wrestling and more than titles and more than being on the top of the entire industry. More than _living_ sometimes.

*

After they win the tag titles, Dean drags him backstage and hauls him in close and kisses him like it's the first time again. Like there's nothing else in the world. Like they barely know each other and like they know each other better than any two people in all of history ever will.

"If you leave again," he tells him, voice harsh and earnest. "I'll fucking kill you."

"I won't," Seth says, like a prayer, a plea. "I won't, I won't, I _promise_ , I won't…"

Seth kisses the words into his skin and he lets himself believe them. Places the blade carefully, delicately back into Seth's hands. Hopes desperately with all he has that he won't use it this time.

*

Afterwards, they lie in bed together for the first time in three years, since the night before Seth betrayed them when he left him alone in a hotel room.

"I told myself it was the best thing for everyone. That I wanted you to move on. Without me. Because you didn't deserve that. Didn't deserve to be burdened with _me_ ," Seth tells him. "But it was a lie. I was glad when you didn't. Because it meant you still cared, in some fucked-up way. And I was so fucking selfish. I'm still selfish. Because I'm asking you for things that should be impossible to give after what I did to you."

"You know, part of me was grateful when you did it. Because it just proved what I always knew. No one ever stays. Everyone fucks you over sometime," Dean admits, voice only slightly bitter. "But I _trusted_ you. For real. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe it was stupid. But it was nice to know. That I could. That that part of me wasn't broken for good. I thought maybe you broke it for a long time. But I think… I think it's still there. Small and fragile but...growing everyday."

"I thought that that was who I really was. Because it was simpler. Less messy. To be that person. Who just wanted one thing. The one thing I always thought I wanted. But that's not who I am."

"Who are you, then?" Dean asks, looking across at him, gaze unwavering, intent.

Seth slides over, looking him right in the eye, reaches down for his hand, clasps them together tightly, brings them both to his chest, pressed close against his heart.

"I'm _this_. I'm here with you. I'm never letting this go again," Seth tells him, quiet but firm.

Dean feels that small, warm light in him grow even brighter now. The flame steadier than it's ever been.

*

Seth's happy. Seth's happy without him. Dean doesn't know anymore if he's acting now, if he's just playing the role of the people's champion. Maybe this is who he really is. Or maybe Dean just doesn't know him that well anymore. He understood Seth when he first met him, he even understood who he was after he left, he knew who he was when he was right there in front of him asking for forgiveness with naked anguish and guilt in his eyes, but this is like some strange, new creature. He's humble and self-assured and whole and content...and okay. On his own. In his own skin and his own head. Standing on his own two feet. Like he finally knows himself and what he can be, what he should be. Without him.

He's suddenly so fucking terrified. That's the thing about having nothing, there's nothing to be afraid of. He almost misses it now.

He doesn't even know who Seth will be when he comes back.

*

Dean walks off after a loss, tells the camera, "Maybe I just don't fit in anywhere anymore," without even looking at it, because it's always been easier to talk to the camera than to trust another human being. 

Seth finds him sitting in the back of a truck outside the arena as the crew takes apart the set and the ring. They used to do this back in the day, hole up in any nook or cranny they could find around the building, small basement rooms, deserted corridors amongst giant equipment cases, on top of production trucks — just to find some peace and quiet and privacy before or after shows. He thinks he might be perfectly fine just staying there all night, stowing away, just letting the truck take him where it will, miles and miles away to another city or country or life. The way they used to a decade ago, hitch a ride to the next gig or the next rest stop for junk food or the next buddy's house to crash on the couch or the floor for the night. Wrestle, rinse, repeat.

He's sitting on the floor of the cabin, back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest. He's just started contemplating a pack of cigarettes, fidgeting with opening and closing the lid, pulling them out one by one before pushing them back in. He hasn't smoked in a long time, he thinks he pretty much quit without realising it two years ago after he finally took the title from Seth. It wasn't revenge, it wasn't closure, it wasn't the end of it, but it was something. It was a start. It felt different after that. Maybe it was the first tiny glimmer of hope he collected before he even realised what it was. 

He doesn't look up when Seth sits down beside him, on the edge of the cabin, one foot on the floor, one leg dangling outside. But his hand stills for a second, and he clenches his jaw tightly when Seth glances across at him. With the exception of a six-pack or two, it's not unlike the very first time he ever met Seth, long before all of this. Wasn't even too far from here.

Seth had sent him a text an hour before that just said: _I'm here if you need anything._ He didn't respond, didn't expect him to come looking for him.

"You okay?" Seth asks now, barely louder than a murmur, after it's been a couple minutes. Seth’s good with silence, when it comes to Dean. Usually just being near him is enough to know what he's feeling, but Dean's been more and more withdrawn since he's been back. 

Dean lets a beat pass, then just shrugs. Then he sighs, tipping his head back against the wall, eyes slowly rolling up to the ceiling. 

"You get my text?" Seth asks instead, like he thinks that's an easier question to answer. "Because I meant it. Whatever you want —" 

"What if I don't know what I want," Dean says, and it's not a question, not really, and he suddenly feels absolutely deflated, exhausted. Seth turns to look at him and Dean knows that his face, his eyes are giving away more than they have in a long time. 

Seth just regards him for a long moment and then slowly lowers himself out of the truck and back down onto his feet on the asphalt ground outside. He turns around to reach back inside the cabin, extending one hand to Dean wordlessly. 

Dean just barely raises an eyebrow, feeling curious where this is going despite himself.

"Come on, let's go for a drive," Seth tells him. 

Dean takes his hand.

*

Seth stops him and takes the keys out of his hand when they're walking through the parking lot.

Dean doesn't argue, just fixes him with an annoyed look and says, "If you get a scratch on her, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Wouldn't expect anything else," Seth says with a smirk. 

They toss their bags in the trunk. Dean gets in the passenger seat, slides his seat back, makes himself comfortable. He doesn't put his seat belt on; Seth doesn't tell him to like he expected. 

They drive out of the city and onto the freeway where there's less cars and noise and people. They roll the windows down and Dean turns the music up, puts his feet up on the dash, closes his eyes and lets everything melt away but the feeling of the wind whipping against his face.

Seth eventually pulls into a gas station because Dean's always driving on empty. Dean grabs a six-pack, opens up a bottle before he even pays for it, then passes one to Seth when they get back in the car. Seth accepts it but only takes a few small sips, definitely not keeping pace with Dean who's almost finished half a bottle before they pull out onto the road again. Seth's never really liked alcohol; Dean figures he likes being in control too much.

Dean somehow seems to get even more self-possessed when he's drunk, like it doesn't dull his senses, but it wakes him up instead. Wakes up the person that's trapped inside his skin, that's always trying to claw its way out.

*

They end up somewhere in the middle of nowhere, driving along bumpy, narrow roads winding through the countryside. Seth's not using the GPS on his phone; it's like he's been trusting the road to take them where it will. Which isn't like Seth at all.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?" Seth decides to ask now.

Dean just laughs a mocking sort of laugh. "Do you really care?"

"What the hell does that mean? Of course I _care_ ," he says, like he's offended by the mere suggestion otherwise.

"Oh, right, I forgot. This _new_ Seth Rollins is everyone's perfect role model and always does the right thing," he says scathingly.

"Is that what this is about?" Seth says, frowning at him like he's actually confused by it.

"You're kidding yourself, Seth," he spits out bitterly. "You used to know when you were faking it, but now it's like you actually believe your own bullshit."

"Dean — "

"Maybe we're _all_ just kidding ourselves. Maybe we're just a nostalgia act. Maybe I'm sick and tired of being _that guy_ , the guy who steps up every single time. Maybe that's not me anymore. Maybe _that's_ what I want."

"Are you saying you don't want this anymore?" Seth says, his voice hesitant and shaky.

"Maybe I don't wanna be tied to the one thing that hurt me the most for the rest of my goddamn life. Everyone else gets to be selfish." He doesn't mean to say any of that. He hasn't brought up Seth's betrayal since the night he promised him he wouldn't ever let go of this again. Throwing it in his face now is shitty. He knows that. He'll blame the alcohol later.

Seth just opens his mouth for a moment before pressing his lips together, his face looking like it's a second away from just crumbling. "Okay, fine, I deserve that," he says, voice small.

"What the fuck are we even _doing_ here, Seth?" he says, slamming his fist down onto the dashboard now.

"Just tell me what I can do to fix this," he says, sounding pleading and urgent, like he's suddenly realised that maybe they're hanging on by a thread and this is his last chance to stop it from breaking irrevocably.

"It's not that fucking simple," Dean grits out angrily.

"Dean, _please_ — "

"Just stop the fucking car," Dean growls.

It's like he can't take it anymore, the silence or the confinement or whatever's furiously slamming on the inside walls of his head, desperate to get out, or to tear him apart.

"Okay, okay, fine."

Seth abruptly screeches to a halt, pulls off to the side of the road, gravel skidding under the tires.

Dean shoves the door open roughly, basically flinging himself out of the car and walks off into the distance, into the dark, just taking deep breaths. He stops for a moment, head bowed, eyes closed. Then he slowly walks back to Seth.

Seth's just standing there staring at him. "Dean, don't do this," he says, sounding almost terrified now. And he can't stand to hear anything he has to say now.

He shoves Seth back against the side of the car and Seth just stares up at him, pupils blown wide and dark like he doesn't know if he's going to kiss him or hit him.

He lets him go again, with a frustrated noise, turning around to walk away, when he feels Seth grabbing him by the shoulder. And he turns around and tackles him without thinking about it, surprising the two of them, taking his legs out from under him, both of them falling to the hard ground.

They scuffle in the dirt for a couple minutes, Dean on top of Seth pinning his arms down to the ground until he manages to escape and flip them over, gaining the upper hand while Dean bares his teeth and swears at him.

Maybe it was always going to come to this. It's what it always is with them. Fighting or fucking. He hasn't touched Seth in weeks and Seth's been giving him his space, like maybe he thinks this still has to do with his injury, the infection, the lingering trauma.

"Are we done now?" Seth eventually asks when Dean's too exhausted, the alcohol making his limbs heavy and sluggish, to even struggle anymore.

Dean doesn't respond but Seth slides off of him and then they're just lying beside each other on their backs, breathing hard, looking up at the sky. 

Seth gets back to his feet first, offers a hand to Dean, but he ignores it this time, hoists himself up off the ground and walks back to the car without looking at him.

They get back in the car and drive in complete silence and Dean just closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the headrest, feeling himself starting to sober up, and Seth takes them to the nearest motel.

"What happens when we wake up?" Seth asks him when they're lying next to each other on the small bed. It feels just like a lifetime ago, in a parking lot on a warm Florida night, the smell of smoke and a bitter taste in his mouth. That feeling of uncertainty, of being right on the brink of something ending, and knowing that maybe that would be better for everyone, but wanting so, so desperately to just keep it. Selfishly and senselessly. If only for a little while longer. But maybe tonight's not a night for false hope.

"I don't know," Dean tells him honestly, closing his eyes, turning away from him.

*

Seth's crying backstage as Roman's talking in the ring, as a state of shock falls over everyone, and it's strange and _wrong_. And he doesn't know what to do. Seth's never like this, especially not in front of so many people. He's always cool and calculated and in control, in every situation. He wants to reach out and touch him and he doesn't at the same time. Of course now when Dean most needs Seth to be _Seth freakin' Rollins_ , the guy he spent months watching on TV, smiling and radiant and confident, who looked like he could take on the whole world and win, who earned the unequivocal faith and belief of every person in every arena every night across the planet, is when he decides to fall apart. It almost makes him angry. Like he has no right to feel like this. Not when he's the one who didn't want this in the first place. When he's the one who shattered Dean's entire world in one fell swoop. And now it's happening all over again.

And he can't do anything about it and the room is spinning and there's only static in his head and he's just going through the motions, putting one heavy foot in front of the other, like all those years when it felt like he was walking underwater, slowly drowning — And then Seth has the titles clutched in his hand and he pulls Dean into a tight hug and says, _I fucking love you so much —_

And suddenly, everything is painfully clear.

It's Seth's fault. It's Roman's fault. It's his own fucking fault for thinking this could work. He was safe before this. Protected. By his own walls and isolation. He was never meant to stay.

He remembers months ago when he almost fucking died from his infection and he wasn't even scared for himself, not really, he'd had enough near-death experiences in his life, usually entirely his own fault, but he was just thinking, _I can't do this to them._

All he's done is hurt the people he cares about. All the people he loves have done is break his heart.

This has to end. It should've never happened in the first place. You can't tame a wild animal like him. You can't make a snake like Seth stop spitting its poison at everyone who dares to trust it. This was built on lies and now it's crumbling from the inside and it's going to consume every single one of them.

Seth's head hits the canvas hard and his body goes still, and everything just goes quiet and he can think again, he can breathe again, he feels like a weight has been lifted off of him.

He walks away, but turns back to survey his handiwork, Seth lying in a crumpled heap on the concrete floor where he left him.

Seth knows him; he should've expected this. This is who he was before he tried to play pretend with them. And now they're gone, so he's done playing pretend. This is who he really is.

He doesn't feel any sense of pleasure from this. He just doesn't feel anything anymore. And maybe that's better.

*

Seth calls him soulless, a cold-hearted bastard, says he never knew how to love, and maybe he's just angry or maybe he's finally figuring out what he should've a long time ago.

Love wasn't meant for people like him. It was always going to be too fragile for his hands that are so accustomed to violence and shedding blood. He wouldn't know what to do with it. Love's only ever caused him pain. Seth never loved him, not really, he was just equally as fucked-up as Dean was and was looking to fill some void. They were fooling themselves. And each other. They could never have this. So best to just cut it out, completely and finally.

*

Seth finds him in a dark parking lot next to a bar on a cold January night.

"You're really just gonna walk away from me like this was nothing?" he says, voice hoarse, face looking haunted.

"You mean, like _you_ did?" Dean asks him, voice toneless.

"I thought we could get past that, but I guess it's always gonna be there. I fucked it up, I know that, but I also did everything I could to get this back. So I'm not going to just let you throw it away again," he says, determined now.

"We're the same," Dean tells him, voice low and intent. "We always have been."

Seth shakes his head. "No, no, Dean. That's not me. That was _never_ me. You don't know how hard I fought to be someone I could like again. And no one can take that away from me. Not even you."

"Why do you care so much about what those fucking people think about you, Seth?" he demands furiously. "You're not any better than me. You're just lying to all of them."

"No, Dean, I don't care about them. I care about _you_. You're better than this. You think you're fucked-up and you'll always be the guy who everyone threw away. You think there's something wrong with you. But that's not you. You're a good person. You've always been a good person. You're not like me. I have to work for it every single day." He gives him a rueful smile.

Everything tells him Seth is lying to him, trying to manipulate him to get what he wants, the way he always does. But the look on his face is different from any other look Dean's ever seen on him in front of the crowds and the cameras. It's the same look he gave him the first time they met ten years ago, when he was young and softer around the edges, innocent somehow even when he didn't think he was, when Dean didn't know him at all but something about him made him want to trust him. Like he'd found a kindred spirit in Seth without even looking for it.

"Why does everything have to be so fucking _hard_?" he says, voice breaking. "Why does it have to _hurt_ so fucking much?"

Seth slowly steps closer to him, reaches up and touches his fingers to his cheek, and just says, "I know you." 

Dean lets out a ragged breath, feeling tears that's been building up in him for weeks and months and years finally spill out and fall onto his cheeks. He just lets them flow. Seth's here to make sure he doesn't hemorrhage.

"You don't deserve this," Seth tells him soothingly. "You don't deserve to be alone. I know, I know how much it can hurt when you care so much about something. I didn't know until I met you. I can't promise you that everything's going to be okay from now on, that it won't hurt anymore, but I'm going to be here through all of it. Whatever it is. All your fucked-up baggage, it's mine too. I put some of it there, and I'm here to take off as much as I can."

"What if we just — can't ever be happy?" Dean asks him, feeling like the lost, helpless child he once was again. "What if we're just doomed to fuck it up over and over again?"

"Maybe we are," Seth tells him honestly. "But if we don't try, we'll never know."

"Is it worth it?" he asks quietly, gazing into Seth's eyes, looking for answers there.

"You're worth it to me," is all he says.

*

After Wrestlemania, Seth takes him back home with him. They sit on the porch and watch kids ride their bikes and people walk their dogs. Everything green and lush around them. The spring air fresh and clean. It's so painfully normal that he almost feels like he shouldn't be here, he's intruding somehow on this idyllic picture of undisturbed happiness. 

"Who would've thought it, huh?" he says, voice rough. "Seth Rollins, living in suburbia. In blissful monotony."

Seth just gives him a quietly knowing, almost wistful smile. 

"Maybe that's what growing up is. Turning into everything you used to hate."

"It still drives me fucking crazy. And I wish it didn't. Because I _want_ it, you know? So bad," he says, and it almost hurts, that want and saying it aloud for the first time ever. "The fucking picket fence and the perfect lawn and a house full of dogs and barbecues in the summer, the whole nine yards..."

Dean glances across at Seth and then drops his gaze back to the ground again. 

"And you," he finishes softly, throat tight with longing even when Seth's right there next to him. 

Seth shakes his head. "You don't have to choose, you know. I thought I did for a long time. But I was a fucking idiot. You don't have to give up any of it, any part of yourself. You can go be fucking amazing, be whatever you need to be, and you can come back whenever you need to. I'll be right here. You can be everything all at once."

Dean lets out a long breath. "It's hard, though. To want everything so damn much and still feel like it doesn't belong to you. Like you don't deserve it. Like you're just gonna break it like everything else. It's like you're constantly being torn in half." 

"We've both broken lots of things. Including each other," Seth acknowledges quietly. "But we're still here. And maybe we're better for it. We know we can survive anything now."

"You sure this is what you want?" Dean asks, words unsteady and tentative. Maybe all he's gonna do is ruin the happiness that Seth's somehow pieced together for himself, out of the wreckage and the ashes. 

"I've wanted a lot of things in my life. And most of them were useless and empty and bitter disappointments in the end. I broke myself into a million pieces to fit into the mold I thought I had to and it was never worth it. But this is the only thing that's always been real," Seth tells him, gaze firmly locked on his own. 

"You never could hide from me," Dean murmurs. 

"I never wanted to," Seth admits, a faint, nostalgic smile on his lips. 

*

A month later, they're standing outside the arena before Dean gets in his car and drives away, leaving this place behind for good. Somehow it feels like this is where their story really begins and ends. Not in the ring or in front of thousands of people or under stadium lights or on international TV. But in parking lots at 3am, alleys behind bars, on dirty downtown sidewalks, driving along dark, narrow backstreets. Always in an in-between state. Transient. Like they were never part of the real world, just borrowing it for a time. They belong on the open road, everywhere and nowhere, in the spaces between night and day. This is the longest he's ever spent in one place and it's not too shabby. He can stay if he wants to. And Seth’s learnt how to stay now too. 

"I guess I should've known that you'd leave eventually," Seth tells him with an ironic look on his face.

"Hey, this isn't like…like _before_. I'm not leaving you behind. I'm taking you with me," Dean reassures him quietly.

Seth looks like he's going to cry now. "Don't be a stranger, Ambrose."

"See you around, Rollins." And that gets a smile from him. He knows what that means. It's not really goodbye. The tides of fate always seem to bring them back to each other sooner or later. 

Dean puts an arm around Seth, rests one hand gently against his jaw as he closes his eyes and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

Seth pulls him into a proper hug, arms wrapped tight around his body, face buried in his chest, breathing shakily as he clings onto him. 

"I'll always know you," Dean says right against his ear. 

They finally let go and Seth keeps staring at him, eyes wide and vulnerable, holding nothing back, everything out in the open for once, brave and brittle and complicated, the Seth he's always known that lives deep inside of him under all the pretenses, the one that made him believe for the first time that maybe someone could know him and love him as he is. That maybe someone would stay.

He's the one leaving now after a lifetime of being left, but it's not the end. They both know that it'll never be the end. They live inside each other now and maybe they did from the very first moment they saw each other. 

Seth keeps looking at him with that same expression as he steps back, as he turns to walk away, almost like a reminder. _Don't forget, even if I might without you._

Dean won't ever forget this. If Seth needs him to pull him back from the edge, he'll be there. Like Seth will for him. Always. They won't ever be alone again.


End file.
